Sleeping for Science
by Alphabet Pie
Summary: Even is a man of opportunity... and it would be a shame to let that gorgeous body and pretty face go to waste, now wouldn't it. EvenLumaira. Oneshot. AU.


Even was rich. A scientist; his job wasn't exactly glamorous but it brought home a great deal of money. He worked independently and was funded by wealthy individuals hoping to make a profit from his discoveries - which, more often than not, they did - and had long since bought his own apartment in the wealthy district of Radiant Garden. People wondered what his secret was to success. In actual fact, they wouldn't have believed it if they had known.

Tonight Even was wearing a smart black suit, his hair tied neatly back in a French plait trailing down his back, and he was lingering at the fringes of a fancy party, champagne glass in hand. He was not in a terribly good mood but then again wastes of time like these rarely amused him; if he wasn't being paid or performing experiments, he had little care for time at all. But there was a man here that he was looking for who was teetering on the edge of offering him a sponsorship to test his latest theory - and Even knew that he would only need one night to transform that "maybe" into a definite "yes".  
His cold eyes scanned the crowd, soon picking out an old male dressed as smartly as he was, chatting idly to a group of young, simpering women no doubt after the exact same thing that he was - and most likely planning to obtain it through the same means. The rich man was hardly attractive, already showing baldness and bloating that came with old age but... Even knew ways to distract himself from that fact and give him a night he would never forget.  
"Master Equarus?"  
The man turned - ridiculous facial hair, thought Even - and smiled a little, waving the ladies away.  
"Ah. Even Carlisle, is it?"  
Even nodded.  
"You were offering funding."  
"You certainly cut to the chase, don't you?"  
Even glanced around; nobody was watching. Secrecy and confidence was key, he had long since learned.  
"I'll make this simple. I give you my body, and in return I have the funds that I require for my experiments. Do we have a deal?"

In short, Even was a prostitute.

Of course, he didn't call it that; he wasn't the kind of low-life scum that loitered in street corners giving easy sex to desperate, pallid men. He would simply do whatever it took to get hold of funding for a new experiment, or more scientific equipment. He knew human nature well enough to seek out the rich men and woman who would succumb easily to physical pleasure and give them exactly that in return for expensive items, or to secure a sponsorship.  
He'd begun the habit when he'd started university, barely able to pay for tuition and rent on his modest salary working evenings in a bar, and he soon learned to put his gorgeous body and pretty face to use. A little make-up, nice clothes... it was a cinch. He'd begun with deep kisses for text books, a quick hand job in the lunch break to secure another week's rent. Gradually he learned that the best targets were ones who had a lot to lose should their night time activities become public (of course, so did Even, but they didn't realise that); he learned just by looking at somebody to recognise which type of sex they preferred - straight or kinky, his touches that of a maiden, or more experienced to maximise pleasure. Even knew his anatomy well, and to him sex was nothing more than a tool to get whatever it was that he wanted.

Today, Even was working in the laboratory when his secretary, a lovely little woman by the name of Nami Adams, bustled in.  
"Lumaira is here to see you, sir,"  
"Tell him that I'm busy."  
"He has flowers, sir."  
"Then tell him that not only am I busy, but I also have no interest in flowers. He's a month too late. I've already finished my paper on photosynthesis."  
"Very well, sir."  
Of course, Nami didn't know about Even's... curious ways of securing grants. Nobody knew; it would undermine his status as a successful scientist. He'd have to be careful about that; if he were to become _too_ successful, the men and women he served at night might begin to use that as a lever to bargain with. He'd have to look higher for funding soon enough.  
And Lumaira.  
Lumaira had met Even at one of those useless parties, and ever since then been fixated on the older (although not too old, that would be bad for business) man to the point of actually being annoying. The worst thing was that Nami had taken a curious liking to him, and kept doing stupid things like inviting him to dinner (Nami slept at Even's a lot when Even was sleeping elsewhere), and telling him to "Keep trying with Even, he's a sweetheart really,".

Even was not one for love. In fact, he barely knew the meaning; he'd never fallen in love before and never planned to. It was messy and complicated, it couldn't be measured in ounces or centimetres or decibels, and it bore no profit to him whatsoever. Lumaira, it seemed, had yet to realise this.  
"I thought I had told Miss Adams to make it clear that I was busy?"  
The man was hanging in the doorway, a bouquet in his hands.  
"I brought these for you."  
"Are they genetically engineered to somehow help me with my research?"  
Lumaira laughed as though this was supposed to be a joke.  
"They are very fine specimens,"  
Even rolled his eyes, standing to walk over to the other man, taking the flowers and laying them carelessly on the desk. Then, a thought occurred to him. Lumaira was a florist, sure, but there were rumours that he was simply pursuing that career because he was enjoying it and not for money because his parents had left him a large inheritance.  
"If these are supposed to win over my heart," He said lowly, just a little bit of teasing seduction slipping into his voice as he trailed his fingers over Lumaira's chest. "You are barking up completely the wrong tree."  
"Oh?" Lumaira said quietly, intrigued. "And what, pray tell, is the right tree?"  
Even couldn't believe that he hadn't seen Lumaira as a potential customer before.  
"Now, if you were to come courting with promises of new equipment..."  
Lumaira tensed, and immediately Even dropped his playful tone and his hand, letting his expression fall into signature emotionlessness.  
"Excuse me?"  
"You heard me. You buy me the things that I need, I'll sleep with you."  
This did not seem to please Lumaira.  
"But that's just sex."  
"I'm good," Even promised, a smile flickering across his face.  
"You're saying that you'd only sleep with me if I bought you things?" Lumaira asked incredulously.  
"Pretty much."  
Lumaira looked horrified.  
"How shallow _are_ you?"  
"Shallow enough not to let an opportunity for extra funds and equipment go to waste," Even replied offhandedly. He wasn't really concerned; if Lumaira threatened to tell somebody else he could easily enough just screw him into submission.  
"You?" Lumaira said, backing towards the door as he gestured to the laboratory. "You've slept with people just for _this_?"  
Even gave him an expressionless look.  
"Yes."  
"What about love?"  
Even scoffed, returning to his results.  
"I don't do "love", Lumaira. I don't care for anything but my experiments. I'm willing to delve into physical pleasure, but it comes at a price. You ought to be grateful. I'm offering. Not many people get offers, and they're usually far richer than you."  
"I don't just want sex," Lumaira said as though it were a ridiculous notion that anybody would settle for anything less than love. "If I only wanted sex, I would hire a cheap whore. Because that, Even Carlisle, is what you are."

Even didn't see Lumaira again for a while. It didn't bother him; as he often told himself, you win some, you lose some. He had plenty of other, richer candidates.  
When he did, it was in his own apartment of all places; he'd arrived home at nearly three o'clock in the morning after a particularly rough night (threesomes were always messy, but they paid well), and there in the hallway Nami had been waiting, eyes red and mascara running from tears. A newspaper clipping was crumpled in her hands.  
"Oh, Even..."  
And she pressed her face into his chest, sobbing.  
"Lumaira told me... about, you know..."  
Even's eyes narrowed as he professionally pushed Nami away, plucking a tissue from the box on the dresser and passing it to her. As she wiped her face, she held out the article for Even to read.  
"I was so worried about you..."  
_PROSTITUTE ATTACKS SWEEP THIRD DISTRICT_  
He sighed a little, dropping the thing into the waste paper basket.  
"It isn't like that, Nami. It's just the occasional favour, I'm not like the penniless people on the streets that are stupid enough to get themselves attacked."  
He left her in the corridor and made his way to the kitchen. A slender hand stopped him.  
"Uh- Even, Lumaira is in there. I invited him around. He sounded pretty upset on the phone."  
Even sighed, diverting his course.  
"I'm going to bed."  
"I'll make you a cup of decaf, shall I?"  
"If it'll make you feel useful."  
Just then, Lumaira opened the kitchen door and joined the other two in the doorway. He wasn't upset. He was furious.  
He gently manhandled Nami out of the way and she scurried into the kitchen, then marched over to Even.  
"You," He said accusingly, "Could at least have told _Nami_."  
"That's Miss Adams to you," Even clipped.  
"She's my friend," Lumaira said. "I know that you don't give a toss about anyone other than yourself, but Nami is my friend and I care deeply about her. You could have told her where you sometimes go of a night."  
"What, so that she could worry about stupid things like scaremongering journalism?"  
Lumaira angrily poked Even's chest.  
"She wasn't the only one worrying."  
"I can look after myself."  
Lumaira sighed, brushing past to head for the front door.  
"Let's just hope so."

For six months or so longer, Lumaira continued to attempt to win over Even's icy heart, or at the very least convince him to stop exchanging his body for funding. But eventually, even he stopped. Last Even heard, he'd begun dating some lovely lady called L'Enera. Personally, he couldn't care less.  
Honestly. Truthfully, he didn't care at all.

Nami acted differently now, too. She was no longer one for cheery smiles, and every time Even claimed that he would be "staying late at work" she would sigh a heavy sigh, and nod in knowing that it was as hollow a lie as Even was himself.

Perhaps a month or so after Lumaira gave up, it happened.

"I see that you - ah! - are into bondage."  
"It's not often that I find a willing partner."  
"I'm willing if you are... to pay, that is."  
Even smiled inwardly at the remark as his hands were cuffed to the bedrail behind his head, his legs chained wide open to convenient objects in the hotel room. This was nothing that he hadn't done before, of course, and he knew how to resist his restraints just a little, but not too much, so that his partner would feel the dominant. The man who had chosen him tonight was an extortionately rich one, recommended by a previous sponsor, and had seemed eager to spend a night in an upmarket hotel room somewhere in the outskirts of Radiant Garden. And it seemed that he was kinky, too. He was still fully clothed, and they'd really not made any physical contact yet, but Even knew better than to ask, so he laid back on the bed, arching his naked back a little with a purr.  
"Whenever you're ready."  
"Just give me a moment."  
The man pulled a cigarette from his pocket and took a long drag. Then, noticing a fire alarm on the ceiling, "hm"ed to himself and pulled over a chair to turn it off.  
"Don't want to cause a fuss."  
"You realise that you're on the clock, don't you?" Even said; he wouldn't normally have stepped so close to the line, but his arms were beginning to tingle uncomfortably and he wanted to get this over and done with as soon as possible.  
The man smiled.  
"You'll forget the clock soon enough."  
Even plucked up a smile, too.  
"We'll see."  
The man made his way to the end of the bed, standing with his hands in his pockets, observing Even's bared form for a moment.  
"You know," He said, removing the cigarette to speak, "You really are a terrible man, Even. Forfeiting purity for mere grants and tools."  
Even shrugged as best as he could.  
"It works."  
The man laughed humourlessly.  
"Even," He said at length, replacing the cigarette and keeping it skilfully clenched between his teeth as he continued. "People like you are disgusting. You don't deserve to live."  
Was this some part of the sex...? Because Even didn't like insults, and if this client was going to act like that then he would easily enough find somebody else.  
Then the man opened his mouth, letting the cigarette fall to the bedcovers.  
"Good night."  
And he was gone.

"I'm sorry, miss. We don't have a booking for Even Carlisle in this hotel."  
"He told me that he would be staying here tonight,"  
Nami bit her lip, her occupied hand winding tighter around her companion's.  
She'd received the call just over an hour ago; Nami had been lucky enough to be cleaning Even's apartment (he never did it himself) and had listened to the voice message.  
_It's funny, isn't it, Even Carlisle? Right now you're on the way to what you think is a night that'll secure you a grant that'll last a year, and you're not going to find out until it's too late that I don't want cheap sex from a filthy, shallow whore. Sleep well..."_  
She'd immediately called Lumaira in her muddled, panicked mind, and he'd driven her to the hotel where Even had told her that he'd be staying. Because if that man didn't want sex... what did he want?  
"I'm sorry. We have no records of that name."  
"Did two men arrive here this evening? One with blonde hair, about this long, and bright green eyes?" Lumaira interrupted.  
"I can't divulge that kind of information."  
"Look," Nami said quietly. "This is really important. We got a call from the man that Even is with, and... we think he's in danger."

For several moments, Even was confused. What was he playing at? Did he want sex, or not?  
When the sheets began to smoke from the cigarette, he realised. The man - he didn't even know his name, and now he was gone without a trace - had planned this. The fire alarm was off, the door was locked, he was chained to the bed which was slowly catching alight...

"They say they'll be here in four minutes," The receptionist said as she set the phone down. After Nami and Lumaira had explained the enigmatic voicemail, she'd reluctantly divulged some information - she had seen a blonde man arrive, but he was alone, and he'd gone upstairs without even talking to her. All Nami knew about the other man was that he was male, and from his voice middle aged.  
Reverberating in her mind, over and over, was the same headline from before.  
_PROSTITUTE ATTACKS SWEEP THIRD DISTRICT  
Over the past three months, four prostitutes working in the streets of Radiant Garden, three female and one male, have been killed after taking on a supposed "client". Police are looking into the case, but more attacks are expected to follow._

Even hissed, pride battling with self-preservation as he scrabbled to pull his feet away from the smouldering bedsheets. Flames were beginning to coax themselves to life now, and he tugged sharply and forcefully at the metal chains - all he succeeded in doing was painfully scratching his wrists.

"Can't we start looking for him?" Lumaira asked as they waited for the police. "He could be hurt already..."  
_Or dead._ Even if they weren't saying it, both Nami and Lumaira feared that exact possibility.  
"I'm sorry. That would be an infringement of our customers' privacy. You'll have to wait for the police to arrive."  
Lumaira impatiently checked his watch. Three minutes to go.

Even's breaths were coming out as gasps as he fought against the cuffs, twisting onto his stomach to no effect. The bed post was smooth metal, the handcuffs strong. He'd never break them. Pick the lock? Maybe, if he happened to have a hairpin. Which he didn't.  
He could feel the lick of heat from the flames now, the metal bands around his angles slowly absorbing energy to leave hot welts in his skin.  
He opened his mouth, and screamed.

"They should be here."  
The poor receptionist, at the receiving end of Lumaira's impatience, sighed.  
"It's only an approximation, sir. They'll be here soon enough."  
Nami, who had been silent since the police had been called, suddenly looked up.  
"Um... if Even screamed... would we hear him?"  
Lumaira winced visibly, and the receptionist shook her head.  
"The hotel rooms are sound-proofed. Customers prefer it that way."

Even screamed.  
He screamed until his throat was raw, then he screamed some more. He kept screaming even until all he could form were whimpers, then he swallowed thickly, and screamed again. He didn't care if somebody found him naked and chained any more, just as long as _somebody_ found him. His reputation would be ruined, but at least he'd still be alive.  
When something that Even had thought was a bottle of lube was consumed by the flames and exploded, showering him with burning hot debris, he half sobbed, half screamed. Why wasn't anybody coming? Couldn't they hear him?

Eventually, Lumaira could take it no more.  
"I'm going to find him."  
"Sir, you can't-"  
"He's my _friend_!" Lumaira yelled. "I can't just stand here while he's abused, or worse! He could be _dead_ by now, are you saying that I should just stand here and do _nothing_?!"  
Nami sobbed, crumpling to the floor.  
"Oh _God_... Lumaira, don't say that...."

_I'm going to die._ Even thought as he flattened out his legs to keep his body away from the sizeable fire, dragged his feet as far away from it as the cuffs would allow.  
_Me. Me, Even Carlisle, successful scientist, twenty-eight years old, am going to die. Chained to a bed. Naked. Of all the undignified..._  
Already every cell in the soles of his feet was screaming with the heat of the flames, and tears were freely pouring from his eyes. _I am going to burn to death. I am going to die. I am going to die._  
Morbid as it was, it felt like that statement running through his mind, over and over, was the only thing keeping him sane.

Finally, sirens sounded in the distance, and police cars drew up in the car park, men rushing out. Everything was a blur, Nami faintly thought as Lumaira argued with the officers, as they disappeared up stairs and in lifts, took records from security cameras, as one no-nonsense woman helped her onto a chair and gave her tissues and soothing words until she was calmer.

_I'mgoingtodieI'mgoingtodieI'mgoingtodieI'mgoingto-_

"In here!"

"Oh, _shit_..."

_I'mgoingtodieI'mgoingtodieI'mgoingtodieI'm-_

"Even?, Oh, fuck, _Even_! Can you hear me? Even! _Even_! Wake up, damn it! You can't die like this!"

_Lumaira?_

"**Even!!**"

...

...

"Lumaira?"

When Even came around, his whole body was stinging, his wrists and feet bandaged, body covered by a plain white hospital gown.  
But... at least he'd come around at all.  
"You're lucky to be alive."  
Even moved restlessly in the hospital bed, unable to meet Lumaira's eyes.  
"I know."  
"You have no idea," Lumaira said quietly, "Of the length of the lecture that I could give to you right now. You really are an idiot. But... I don't suppose that now's the right time."  
"Maybe later," Even replied sardonically. And then added quietly, "I'm sorry."  
"Tell that to Nami. She's a mess."  
"Believe me, I would if I could move."  
Lumaira sighed, standing up as though to leave.  
"I love you," He said suddenly. "As much of a moron as you are, I really do love you."  
He walked out.

In the months that followed, Even threw himself into his work. He had no time to waste; his body scarred, sleeping for money was no longer an option, and his experiments had to have a one hundred percent success rate if he was to secure a new sponsorship. Of course, the press had got in on the news of the attack on the hotel - but his name was never mentioned, described only as "a successful scientist". He could live with that.  
It took nine weeks to come off crutches, and even when he did he still found himself limping slightly as he made his way around the labs, barefoot more often than not because it was more comfortable. He didn't see much of Lumaira, and Nami had been quiet ever since the attack. He doubted that there would be any way for him to regain their favours.

The perpetrator was never found.

It was on an idle Monday evening that _it_ happened. Even had been working late, as usual - his latest project was intense indeed - when Nami popped in to the labs.  
"There's somebody here to see you."  
Even reached under the table and slipped on a pair of shoes. Eccentricity never sat well with clients.  
"Bring him in,"  
Nami nodded, and, taking a coffee mug, scurried out. When the door opened again, there was the sweet smell of flowers wafting in with the visitor.  
Even turned slowly, setting test tube forty-six down in a rack at the side.  
"Lumaira."  
The man had a beautifully arranged bouquet of flowers with him, types so exotic that Even could not name them.  
Lumaira held them out.  
"I thought that perhaps it was time to try again."  
"Yes," Even replied thoughtfully, taking the flowers with care that he had never shown before. He found a sizeable enough beaker, filled it with tap water, and lowered them in. "Thank you."  
"Will that be all, or do I need to promise you a defibrillator to earn your affections?"  
Even smirked, brushing his fingertip across one beautifully crafted petal.  
"If it's affections that you want," He said quietly as he crossed the distance between them, "Then I think that they should come for free."


End file.
